


a couple expectations

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, High School, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Transphobia, Prom, nb!Mike Wheeler, nb!eleven, trans!Mike Wheeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: Prom is coming up for the party, but Mike isn’t looking forward to it. All she wants to do is go and be proud of who she is. Will has an idea of how to give her the prom she wants.
Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, background Max Mayfield/Eleven | Jane Hopper
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	a couple expectations

The party watches as Lisa Abernathy tapes a pink and blue poster to the wall, chattering excitedly to Mary King, who holds her ladder. “A Night To Remember,” the poster reads, “Get Your Prom Tickets NOW!”

Dustin grimaces. “So are we all going solo to prom?”

“What, Susie’s not flying in?” Will jokes. 

Dustin glares. 

“I’m going with Max,” Lucas says. 

“Didn’t you two break up?” Dustin asks. 

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, but we thought it’d be fun. As friends, or whatever.” His voice is tender.

“Isn’t that a little hard? Going with her when you’re still—“

Lucas shakes his head. “Shut up, Dustin.” 

Will sighs and looks over to Mike, whose face is screwed up in a scowl. 

“You okay, Mike?”

Mike’s scowl falls away as she looks at Will, but the tension in her jaw stays. “I’m fine.”

Will gives her a soft look, concern creasing his forehead. 

Mike looks around the busy school hall and leans in to whisper to Will, “We can talk about it later.” The implied “when we’re alone” goes unsaid. 

Lucas raises his eyebrows in questioning, but Mike shrugs him off. 

“Just not thrilled about going to prom stag.”

“Why don’t you go with El?” Dustin asks. 

“Maybe I will.” Mike’s hands stretch infinitesimally towards Will before she sighs. “I should ask.”

Lucas points at the clock on the wall. “We should get to class.”

Mike nods, smiles halfheartedly, and slouches off towards calculus. Will watches her go, then heads off down the hall with the rest of the party. 

* * *

El leans against Mike’s old Impala as Will kicks at the pebbles dotting the parking lot. 

El checks that no one is in hearing distance. “Where’s Mike?” They ask. “She’s ten minutes late. It better not be that mouth breathing science teacher again, or I’m going to—“

“You can’t use your powers on a teacher, El.”

El makes a face at him. 

“I’m sure she’s fine. But I did want to talk to her about, well... you know, I should just wait till she gets here.”

El is about to question him when Mike appears, a soft smile on her face as she adjusts her backpack strap. 

“What’s up with you two?” 

“I’m fine, Will’s the one acting weird.”

“You just threatened a teacher—“

“I barely—“

“Guys?” Mike interrupts. 

Will and El turn towards her and say in near unison, “We’re fine.”

“It’s weird when you do that.” Will shrugs and El rolls their eyes. 

As Mike passes by Will to get to the driver’s door, Will leans in and whispers in her ear, “Didn’t you have something to ask El?”

Mike looks at him seriously. “Did I?”

Will gives her a sad smile. “I think you two would have fun.”

Mike sighs and turns to look over the car to where El is waiting at the shotgun door as Will goes to join them. “Hey, El, do you wanna go to prom with me?”

“Isn’t that a thing couples do?”

“It doesn’t have to be. I thought we could go as friends.”

El cocks their head slightly to the left and thinks for a moment. “And you can’t go with Will?”

Mike shakes her head and chuckles wryly. “Not a chance.”

They nod. “Sure, I’ll go. It sounds fun. I get to dress up, right? They always do in the movies.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, “you can get all fancy.” She unlocks her door and slides onto the leather seat, leaning across the car to pull up the passenger side lock. 

El scrambles in, scooting towards Mike and already chattering about what they might want to wear. Will climbs in after them, nodding along intently. 

The drive to the Byers’ is full of this, and Mike is struck by just how much the two act as if they had lived together since birth. 

By the time she pulls into the Byers’ driveway, El is onto what to do with their hair, and is almost surprised to be stopping, so caught up in their thoughts. They push at Will. 

“Get out, get out, I have to consult Vogue.”

Will laughs. “I’m going, I’m going!”

El is out of the car half a second after him and almost immediately bouncing through the front door. 

Will watches them go before looking at Mike and sliding back onto the bench seat. “So what’s up?”

Mike stares at the steering wheel and exhales loudly. “I don’t want to go to prom with El.”

Will starts, “But you-“

“I want to go with you.”

“You know we can’t-“

“Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“Mike-“

“I don’t want to go with a girl-“

“El isn’t a girl-“

“-and I don’t want to wear a suit and,” her voice drops to a whisper, “I don’t want to spend the whole night wishing I was with you.”

Will swallows and puts his hand on Mike’s arm. Mike gazes out the windshield. 

“What do you want?”

“I want to get all dolled up with El, and wear a frilly dress, and do my makeup, and I wanna go with you. I want to dance across the center of the hall and have everyone see how lucky I am to be with you, and not have to be scared. But I can’t do any of that, can I? Because that would be the end of the fucking world, I guess.”

Will’s head falls back. “I guess so.”

They sit in silence for a minute, defeat sinking their shoulders. Will reaches forward and switches on the radio, which is half static and half “Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road.”

“But it wouldn’t end the world,” he says, “if you kissed me right now.”

Mike surveys the deserted suburban street. “Can I?”

Will nods and scoots towards her, fingers wrapping around the nape of her neck. “Please.”

Mike grabs his shoulders and kisses him softly, still overwhelmed that she can do such a thing. The kiss doesn’t last long before she pulls away, painfully aware of how visible they are to the world. 

“I should go. I need to get to work.”

Will nods, but his hand doesn’t leave her skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Mike nods. “Yeah. I— I’ll miss you.”

Will finally returns to the other side of the car. “I’ll miss you too.” He gets out and waves as Mike pulls out of the drive. When the car fades away down the street, he sulks back into the house, collapsing onto the couch. His skin crawls, thinking of Mike being so upset. _Fuck prom,_ he thinks, _and fuck the rest of the world too_.

Will sinks into the depths of the lumpy cushions, grabbing a discarded comic, and sets to rereading it, but his focus drifts away, circling back, as it always does, to Mike. The pain in her face won’t disappear. _But she’s got to expect disappointment when she wants impossible things._

El stalks out of their room, muttering loudly. “...don’t even know if the mall will have a good dress, might have to make one...”

Will turns around to look at them. “Can you make a dress?”

El stops in their tracks and stares at him, startled. “Me, no. Mom, probably.” They continue their pacing, then halt suddenly once more. “Why?”

“I think I need one.”

El furrows their brow before walking towards Will and plopping down onto the couch. “What’s your plan?”

* * *

Will and El talk long into the night, Will sketching out El’s ideas, a medley of Vogue pictures, the depths of their closet, and their own imagination. By one, long after Joyce has yelled at them to go to sleep and gone to bed herself, the two have something workable. 

Will finishes the pastel pink shading of the pleated skirt and sets down the pencil. They both consider the design; baby pink frills and sky blue ribbons form a sweet, girlish dress. 

Will bites his lip and looks to El. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Of course Mike will like it. We’re a fucking dream team.”

Will chuckles. “Only problem is we don’t know her measurements.” El starts to speak, but Will interrupts them with, “Oh, and we’ve never sewn before.”

El rubs their eyes. “I say we deal with it in the morning.”

Will stares at the floor for a moment before nodding. “Good idea.” As he walks into the hall, he turns to see El already mostly asleep on the couch. He smiles and turns out the light. 

* * *

Will swings the door open for Mike, who walks into the tailor’s, chattering about Lucas’ new D&D campaign. Will nods along to Mike’s latest theory on the identity of the necromancer’s spy and smiles. He feels just a little like Roger Moore. 

Will walks to the cluttered desk and rings a bell speckled with rust. The note echoes in the small room despite the bolts of cloth surrounding them. 

A voice calls, “Coming,” and a tall, wispy woman shuffles into the room. Her long limbs move stiffly and her voice is hoarse when she smiles at them and says, “What can I help you boys with today?”

Mike looks at the ground and grinds her teeth. Will says, “I think we have an appointment. We’re getting our tuxedos altered for prom.”

Mike’s mother had bought her a brand new one, with a silk shirt and silver cufflinks. Will’s, on the other hand, had once been Jonathan’s, and had cycled through a couple of thrift shops before that. 

The woman nods and ushers them into the back room. She smiles and asks, “Which of you wants to go first?” 

They look at each other and Mike shrugs. “I’ll do it,” she says. 

“Wonderful. First, I’ll need to get your measurements, and then we can set to altering the suit. I’ll just need any excess layers off.”

Mike gives her tuxedo to Will, who gives her a thumbs up. She pulls off her jacket and unbuttons her shirt. In a moment, she stands in the back room in cuffed jeans and a tank top. Her gaze turns to Will, whose eyes rest in the curve of her collarbone. She raises her eyebrows at him, and he looks away, blushing. She laughs. 

The tailor walks up behind her, and lines the measuring tape along her shoulders. Mike suppresses the urge to fidget. 

The seamstress says, “Fifteen inches,” and moves on to her arms. 

Will opens his sketchbook and the sound of pencil on paper fills the room. 

Mike’s skin itches with discomfort in the awkward near silence, interrupted only by brief measurements, but she follows the seamstress’s instructions and breathes a sigh of relief when she steps away. 

“Wonderful, sweetie. Now you can get into that lovely tux of yours and we can start work on alterations.”

Mike accepts her garment bag back from Will and heads towards the dressing room the woman points her to. 

Will checks the measurements he had scrawled next to a sketch of Mike, and then looks up to see the seamstress watching him. He gives her an awkward smile. “Hi, I’m Will.” He points at the dressing room. “That’s Mike.”

“Mrs. Stenson. So, tell me about who you’re going to prom with? A pretty girl?”

Will chuckles uncomfortably. “No. I- no. I’m just going with my friends.” He looks at the door hiding Mike. “I can’t go with the person I like.” 

“Awww, I’m sorry, sweetie! She won’t be able to see how good you’ll look once I fix this old thing up!”

Will shrugs one shoulder. “She might get a look.”

Mrs. Stenson is about to add something when Mike opens the dressing room door, tuxedo making her look tall and mature, despite being a bit baggy around the hips. Will holds his breath a moment, overwhelmed by the cloth ghosting over her angles and highlighting her lean frame. Mike catches him looking and grimaces. 

“How bad is it?”

Will startles from his reverie. “Oh, no, it’s... you look pretty...” He looks at the seamstress, “pretty good.”

Mike smiles softly. “Thanks.” She turns towards Mrs. Stenson. “Can you work your magic?”

* * *

Joyce’s sewing machine makes an awful noise and the pink taffeta beneath Will’s fingers tears for what seems like the hundredth time.

“Shit!”

El looks up from attempting to gather a long pink ruffle. “What happened now?”

Will pushes up the foot of the machine and pulls the ripped fabric out. “I don’t know,” he says, and gives the ancient machine a half-hearted smack. 

El gets up from their chair to survey the damage. They look from the long tear to the disaster that is their own ruffle. “We’re fucked.”

Will wants to protest, but he just sighs and nods. “Totally fucked. Why did I think I could do this, El?”

They give him a worried look. “It’s not too late to give up.”

Will glares at them. “We can’t— I can’t— I don’t want to hurt Mike.”

“She doesn’t even know you’re doing this.”

“But— can’t I manage to do this one thing for her? She’s done so much for me, and I know how upset she is, and I just want to make it better.”

“Will, I don’t think we can—“

“Where’s my sewing machine?” Joyce calls from the next room. Will and El look at each other, them with guilt, him with a twinkle in his eye. 

“What?” El hisses. 

“We can’t sew.”

“I know that.”

He grins. “But Mom can.”

El shakes their head. “But she doesn’t know about Mike.”

Will bites his lip. “Would it be so bad to tell her? She knows about you. And me.”

“We can’t without Mike’s permission. And we can’t get that without telling Mike what we’re doing.”

Will furrows his brow. “Maybe we can. I don’t have to tell her the real reason I want to tell Mom.”

Eleven narrows their eyes. “Friends don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying! I’m just not telling the whole truth. It’s different. And I have wanted to tell Mom for a while anyway.”

El regards him for a minute before finally nodding. “Fine.”

Joyce calls again, “Will, have you seen my sewing machine?”

Will grimaces dramatically and El laughs. 

* * *

Mike follows Will out behind the cafeteria with questioning eyes. “What are we doing back here? It’s a little close to school for anything—“

“I’m not pulling you out of lunch for some se— some liaison.”

“So why are you?”

Will looks at the grass. “I, um, I’ve been thinking about us—“

“Wait, are you breaking up with me? You’ve been acting kinda weird lately, but I didn’t think it was because you wanted to—“

“No, no, no! I’m not breaking up with you! I wanted to tell my mom about you.”

“What?”

“We’ve just been together a while, and my mom’s so cool about things, and I don’t like lying to her. I don’t know, I’d like to tell her how I feel about you, and who you really are, and... I just don’t want to have to keep these parts of my life separate anymore. But I didn’t want to tell her if you weren’t okay with it.”

Mike thinks for a moment. “I-“

“I don’t have to.”

“Are you sure she won’t freak out? Or tell someone?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve told you how supportive she was when I told her I was...” Even now the word gets caught in his throat. “...gay. And she’s trying really hard to understand El’s whole not-a-girl-not-a-boy thing.”

“And she wouldn’t tell my mom?”

“Nope. I’ll make sure she won’t.”

Mike fidgets. “Then, yeah, okay. It would be nice to have somewhere I didn’t have to hide.”

Will looks around before kissing her cheek, fast but soft. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

Mike smiles. “It’ll be weird, having someone other than El know. It feels like it’s been just the three of us for a while, you know?”

Will nudges her. “The world is getting bigger. It’s just taking its time.”

Mike takes Will’s hand. “To getting bigger.”

* * *

Will sits stiffly at the kitchen table and taps his fingers on the Formica. The clock ticks laboriously past five o’clock. El sticks their head through the door. 

“I don’t think tapping is going to get Mom home any sooner.”

Will glares at them. “She’s almost here. Got off early, I think. I can feel it.”

“You’re getting better at that. Can I sit with you?”

Will nods. “You’re probably the better person to tell Mom about all this gender stuff anyway.” 

El wriggles their shoulders. “I know everything.”

Will laughs. “Sure.”

El opens their mouth as the door swings open and Joyce walks through, her coat dwarfing her and the weight of her bag pulling down one shoulder. She’s muttering under her breath, caught up in some line of thought, until she meets the pointed gazes of her kids. She freezes in the doorway like a cat unsure if it’s in trouble. 

“What?”

Will clears his throat and gestures to the chair next to him. “Mom, can we talk?”

“What’s going on? Did one of you get expelled? Did both of you get expelled?” She turns to El. “Are you pregnant?”

“ _Mom!_ “

“It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?”

Will looks to El. “It’s about Mike,” he says. 

“Is Mike in trouble? Is it that father of his? Do I need to talk to him?”

“Mom! Can I talk, please?”

“Sorry, Will. Go ahead.” She slouches onto the indicated chair. 

“Thanks. I know that you want me to be as honest with you as I can, and I’m trying to be. And there’s a few things I’d like to tell you. About Mike.”

“So you are dating! I’m so proud of you!”

“What? I- How did you know?”

“I mean, I wasn’t sure if you’d actually made a move, but come on, Will, you’re head over heels.”

It’s Will’s turn to moan, “ _Mom!_ “

El snickers. “She’s kinda right.”

“I thought you were on my side!”

El shrugs and smirks. 

“Are you two using protection?”

Will blushes furiously as his voice climbs an octave. “ _Mom!_ I- we aren’t- we haven’t gotten to that point.”

Joyce nods approvingly. “How long has it been?”

“Almost five months.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

Will bites his lip. “Well, the thing is, I need your help. Mike’s, uh, kind of like El.”

“He has powers?”

“No! Um, more in the doesn’t really want to be a boy thing. Or girl, in El’s case.”

Joyce takes a moment to process this information. “So he’s... is it he?”

El shakes their head, then shrugs. “Well, sometimes. Sometimes it’s she.”

Joyce makes a mental note. “Ok. Is she a girl, or is she neither, like El?”

“Both, I think,” Will says. “She says she likes being a boy and being a girl. So the opposite of Eleven.”

Joyce hums. “Okay. But you’re gay, aren’t you? Does that still... work?”

Will chuckles. “Somehow. I think I’d love Mike no matter who she was.”

“Love?” El asks. 

Will’s eyes widen. “Ignore that.”

Her mental processing still shows on her face, but Joyce powers on. “So what did you want my help with?”

Will sighs. “It’s about prom.”

“I thought Mike and El were going together.”

“We are,” chimes El, “but Mike really wanted to go with Will, and dress up like girls do, and all that, but that’s not exactly happening at prom, so—“

“So we thought we’d decorate the backyard and have our own little prom afterwards,” Will interrupts, “and we were going to make her a dress—“

“Except we can’t sew for shit.”

Joyce raises her eyebrows at the language, despite it being a complete lost cause, and says, “So, you’re recruiting me to sew the dress?”

Will and El nod. “Please,” they say together. “We have the patterns and all,” Will adds. 

Joyce sighs. “I’ll see what I can do. Where are these patterns?”

Will gets up and hugs her tightly. “Thank you, mom. It means a lot.”

Joyce hugs him back. “You’re my kids. I do what I can. And that includes Mike.”

* * *

El weaves towards the tables in the corner of the prom, out of breath from dancing and on the hunt for Mike. They scan the dark furniture, scattered with dejected boys in fitted tuxedoes and exhausted girls whose elaborate hairdos are starting to fade. Finally their eyes find her, sitting in the corner and fiddling with a plastic cup. 

“Hey, Mike, dance with me?”

She looks up briefly before shrinking back into herself. “I’m just not really feeling it. You go have fun.”

“Come on, together, right?” The bass of “Take On Me” fades away and the starting notes of “Can’t Fight This Feeling” play. 

“Please, Mike? Just one song? Prom is almost over.”

Mike smiles weakly. “Okay. One song.”

El pulls her back into the slowly swaying crowd, pulling her arm around their waist. El softly sings along to the ballad, and Mike slowly joins them, campy and over dramatic, a real smile ghosting across her face. 

They swing around the hall together, nearly running into a tamer couple, before Mike sees something over El’s shoulder and freezes. 

“Mike?” they ask. 

Mike’s hands drop to her sides and she runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you at the car, okay? I’m done.” She nearly runs out the door, one hand covering her face, before El can say anything. 

They turn around, confused to see Will slow dancing with a girl; the pretty, blonde Mary King. He’s smiling softly, if a bit hesitantly, and he spins her as the song crescendoes. They both laugh. El swears under their breath. For a moment, they don’t know whether to go to Will or Mike. But Mike seemed to need a bit of alone time, so they do neither. Max waves at them from across the dance floor, and after a deep breath, El goes to join her. They’re allowed to have fun, after all. 

* * *

Mike stumbles through the parking lot, swiping at her eyes and swearing under her breath. The curve of her Impala fades in out of the dark and she fumbles with her keys, vision blurring. She finally gets the door open and slumps into the driver’s seat, sobs gathering in her throat. 

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

 _I shouldn’t even have come to prom. I should have stayed home where I didn’t have to see Will looking so happy with a girl._ She smacks the steering wheel. _It’s not his fault, you idiot. He’s allowed to dance with whoever he wants. Besides, it’s not like he was going to dance with you._

A sob escapes and she folds herself over the steering wheel, images of all her friends, dressed up and smiling, flashing through her head. _They all seemed so happy. They’re probably happier without me, hiding all my fucked up things away so no one has to see them. Maybe I should just hide myself away._ She almost drives home then, but she can’t just leave Will and Eleven stranded, so she doesn’t move from the dark parking lot. Tears track across her tuxedo sleeves as she finally pulls herself together. 

_You’re fine, idiot. So you can’t go to prom with Will. That’s the way the world is, you fucking moron. Deal with it._

She wipes the last tears from her eyes as people start trickling out of the dance hall. Her eyes scan the crowd for El and Will, who finally come into sight, talking intently to one another and giggling. She sighs. _Good to know someone had fun._

Will sees the car and waves energetically. El smiles, and they both hurry towards the car, Eleven huddled up in Will’s blazer. 

Will pulls the passenger door open and calls, “Away with us all, Mike, for this festival is far from over!” as he ushers El into the car. 

El watches Mike’s shrug in response and says, “Hey, you okay?”

Mike blinks a few times. “I’m fine.”

Will slides onto the seat and looks at her. “Have you been crying?”

Mike shoves the keys into the ignition. “I said, I’m fine.”

Will and El look at each other with a knowledge Mike can’t interpret, and she grits her teeth and pulls the car into drive. As they pull out of the lot in awkward silence, Mike sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just not having a very good night. But that doesn’t mean you two shouldn’t.” She swallows and tries to sound nonchalant. “Did you have a good time with Mary King, Will?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess. It was just a dance.”

“Right. Just a dance.”

Will cranes his neck around El to look at her carefully. “I’m serious. She was crying because her boyfriend was dancing with someone else and ignoring her. So I figured I’d ask her to dance, you know, just to cheer her up. We sit next to each other in calculus. That’s it.”

The hurt doesn’t disappear from Mike’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Mike exhales. “It’s not. I just... I’m jealous that we couldn’t do that. It’s silly.”

El and Will share another one of their blasted knowing looks. Mike grits her teeth in frustration but continues. “El, did you and Max have fun?”

El grins to cover up their discomfort. “Yeah. I had fun with you, too, Mike. Thanks for taking me.”

“No problem.” She exhales. “You’re my friend. I’m sorry I couldn’t be excited with you. You basically ended up going with Max. Getting all dressed up, spending the whole night dancing. Guess she was a better date than I was.”

El chuckles and rolls their eyes. “Dating Max. That’s the dream.”

Will rises from his stew of discomfort to say, “I stand that she’s into you. I’ve done my fair share of yearning looks and I know pining when I see it.”

El ruffles his hair. “More than your fair share.”

He elbows them. “Shut up!”

As Mike watches their juvenile antics, a smile creeps back onto her face. Even if she couldn’t be honest about how she felt about them, at least she still had these two losers. 

Eventually the conversation lulls into a quiet stretch, which Mike interrupts with, “So remind me why we can’t go have dinner with the rest of the party?”

Will coughs. “I just wanted to spend some time with you tonight.”

“And El?”

Will shrugs. “Bite me.”

Mike rolls her eyes and flicks on her blinker to turn into the Byers’ driveway. As they roll to a stop, Joyce walks out of the house, looking expectant. Mike looks at Will questioningly. 

Will grimaces. “She’s excited to hear how prom went?”

“Yeah,” El adds. 

Mike studies both of them hesitantly before getting out of the car. _Definitely acting weird._

“Hi, Mrs. Byers!” she calls. Joyce waves to her before looking to Will, as if for guidance. 

Will herds everyone towards Joyce’s place at the front door and says, “So, Mike, we’ve got a bit of a surprise for you, if you’d just close your eyes.”

Mike keeps her eyes open. “What’s going on? Why are you guys acting so weird?”

El shushes her. “It’s a surprise. Now close your eyes!”

When Mike continues to looks skeptical, Will walks behind her and covers her eyes with his hands. 

“Oh my god,” she says, but allows herself to be led through the house. “Why are we doing this?”

A hand knocks against her arm. “Just go with it,” El says. 

When they’ve reached what she thinks is Will’s room, Will stops and drops his hands. She opens her eyes to see Will’s bed. Hair clips and makeup brushes are scattered across the bedspread and right in the middle lies a dress. Pink taffeta rests over layers of crinoline, forming a large pleated skirt. A baby blue belt ties it to a close-fitting top and a single frilled strap. Mike looks at the dress longingly, then up at Will. 

“I don’t understand.”

Will gestures at the dress. “It’s yours. We thought we’d give you the prom you wanted. Well, a little bit more in my backyard and a little less in a dance hall with the whole school, but... Mom and El said they’d help you get done up.” 

A smile slowly grows on her face, and she turns from the dress to hug Will tightly, his face buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Thank you,” she mutters, lump forming in her throat again. 

“Mom did all the sewing, she’s the one you should be thanking.”

Joyce waves it off. “It was your idea.”

Mike looks up at El and Joyce, tears pooling in her eyes. “Thank you both.”

After a deep breath, reveling in the feel of Will’s arms around her, she lets him go and takes another look at the dress. 

Will steps towards the door. “I’m gonna let you guys get to work.” He slips out the door with a wave. 

Joyce brandishes a hairbrush at the bed. “When you’re ready for the best part of school dances, you can sit on the bed and I’ll get started on your hair. El’s doing makeup.”

“The best part?”

Joyce nods. “Getting dressed up. Dances are basically an excuse to look pretty and wear a fancy dress.”

El shrugs in agreement. “Now, come on, on the bed.”

Mike sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed. Joyce walks up behind her and runs a hairbrush through her hair. El sits before her, a bag of cosmetics between them, and starts pulling things out. Mike recognizes about half of them. 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” she says. 

El crinkles their nose at her. “Shut up. This is what friends do.”

Joyce hums. “Plus, I love this kind of stuff.”

“Really?”

“Only time I actually put any time into appearances.”

El chuckles and Joyce swats at them. “Just because I’m not fashionable like you—“

“Mom, you’re gonna make me mess up Mike’s makeup!”

Joyce makes a noise of contempt. “Then pay more attention to makeup and less to making fun of your mom.”

El makes a face at Mike, who laughs. 

“I saw that!”

Mike’s laughter dies down as Eleven brushes blush across her cheeks. She stares into their eyes, their smile contagious. For a moment, they’re twelve again, their roles reversed, and Mike is overwhelmed by how much El has grown. 

She tries her best to sit still as her hair is pulled and her face prodded, but she smiles through it all, this experience she’d always wanted but never thought she’d have. 

Nearly a gallon of hairspray later, El walks her to the mirror in the bathroom, and she gasps. Her cheekbones are accentuated, her hair curled, her lips a soft pink, her eyes shadowed with blue, rimmed with long, dark lashes. 

“Pretty,” Eleven says as they stand behind her. 

“Pretty,” Mike echoes, and for once, she feels it. 

Joyce carries the dress into the bathroom and hangs it over the towel rack. “Whenever you’re ready, dear,” she says as she pulls the door shut behind El and herself. 

Eventually Mike turns from her reverie and holds the dress, feeling the fabric beneath her fingers, as if it were a holy thing. She strips away the starched tuxedo and slips the taffeta over her skin. She breathes deeply, feeling right. She spins, watching the skirt float out around her. 

Joyce knocks on the door. “You about done, honey?”

Mike pulls the door open, and Joyce gasps. “You look beautiful.”

Mike hugs her. “Thank you. Thank you for all of this.”

“Of course.” Joyce pulls back to look her in the eye, both of them blinking back tears. “I’m here if you need anything. You know that, right?”

Mike nods. 

“Now don’t cry. You’ll smudge your mascara.”

Mike bites her lip and swallows. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Joyce offers her her arm. “Let’s go see your date.”

* * *

Will fiddles with the sleeves of his blazer, studying the golden fairy lights strung across the yard. A table with three kitchen chairs and a small tray of snacks sits near the shed. Streamers crisscross the lights, and the effect is simple but lovely. After Joyce had completely taken over sewing, Will had been put in charge of decorations, and he’s rather pleased with the results. He’s fiddling with the softly playing boom box when he’s startled by the back door opening. 

Mike stands in the doorway, on Joyce’s arm, her smile radiant. In kitten heels, she towers over Joyce as she takes in the softly lit yard. Her hair curls to the side like Molly Ringwald’s, crinoline dances around her calves, and the dim light makes her eyes look perfectly black. Will freezes, just looking at her. She looks soft and feminine and comfortable in her skin. She’s “beautiful,” Will whispers. 

Joyce disappears back through the door as Mike walks down the stairs, looking rather like a princess, and Will meets her at the last step. 

“It looks wonderful,” she says, looking up at the glowing trellis. 

“So do you,” he says, watching the balls of light dance in her eyes. 

She blushes. “It’s a beautiful dress, Will.”

“Then it’s perfect for you.”

Her smile pushes up her cheeks. “It is perfect. I’ve never had one of my own before.”

“Then what do you say we show it around the dance floor?” Will gestures at the patchy grass and chuckles. “Which I think is rather outclassed.” He offers his hand to her. She takes it and he leads her out onto the grass. He wraps a hand around her waist and she laughs. 

“Aren’t you fancy?”

“Just wait.” He spins her out across the ground and then back towards him. She bumps into his chest and he stumbles backwards. “We’ll work on it.”

“Are you implying we’ll be doing quite a bit of dancing?”

“Well, the rest of the party isn’t getting here for a couple of hours, so I think we’ve got time.”

“Well, in that case...” she says as she dips Will, who makes a shocked noise. When she pulls him back up, his chest is pressed against hers, faces inches apart. Their laughter fades away. The song ends and “Tiny Dancer” starts. Will rests his head on her shoulder as they sway along to the song. His hand on her waist, the smooth skin over her collarbone, the light shining between locks of her hair. He closes his eyes for a moment, memorizing each detail. 

“This is perfect, Will,” she says. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Will raises his head to look at her, looking prettier than he’s ever seen her. “Can I kiss you?”

Her answer is in leaning forward, eyes closing, and he catches her lips with his. For once, they don’t have to pull apart out of fear. They kiss, long and gentle, tasting of lip gloss and mouthwash. For a moment, the world is just the two of them.

As they pull apart, Mike whispers, “I love you, Will.”

Surprise appears on Will’s face. “You’ve never said that before.”

Mike looks down. “It’s true.”

Will pecks her on the cheek. “I love you, too. I can’t remember not loving you.”

She just looks at him, in awe that someone so wonderful could love her. 

* * *

Two hours later, El, Will, and Mike lounge on the couch in their pajamas, in the midst of a fit of giggles. Headlights light up the wall and the sound of an old V8 fills the room. They walk outside as Max, Dustin, and Lucas tumble out of Max’s car. 

“I hear we’re finally allowed to join you guys,” Lucas calls, “What the fuck were you doing anyway?”

“Decorating!” El says.

Mike looks at them skeptically but Will nods. “Yeah! Thought we’d have our own dance!”

They all file into the house, half still fully formal. 

“So, what’s the dress code?” Dustin asks. “Because the pajamas look comfortable.”

“Pajama prom it is,” Will says. 

Dustin and Lucas head down the hall to change when Max takes a closer look at Will. 

“I fucking told you guys!”

Will looks at her, alarmed, as Dustin and Lucas halt and turn back. 

“Told them what?” Mike asks. 

“Will found someone to make out with. I knew it.”

Lucas scoffs. “You don’t have a shred of proof.”

Max smirks and swipes her thumb across Will’s bottom lip. She shows it to Lucas. “Lip gloss. Now cough up.” 

Mike, El, and Will turn to each other and crack up as Lucas groans and digs in his pocket. 

Dustin gestures between them. “You guys know something! This is a fucking conspiracy.”

“Go get changed, already,” Mike says, and another wave of laughter follows. Dustin backs down the hall, watching them over dramatically, miming binoculars. Lucas and Max follow him, also eyeing them suspiciously. 

Mike throws her arm around the others’ shoulders. “Do you think we should tell them?”

El giggles. “I’m not sure we have a choice. I think we’re... what is it, Will?”

“Toast? Goners? Dead meat?”

“Dead meat.”

Mike looks down the hall. “Max is gonna be livid that we didn’t tell her for five months.”

Will leans into her arm. “She’ll live. I’m just glad to be honest. Our world’s getting bigger, Mike.”

Mike squeezes them both for a moment, until Max walks out in an extra large t-shirt and boxers. 

“I’m finding out the truth, losers.”

Mike nods. “Yeah, I think you are.” And she pulls Will and El down the hallway, towards the faint lights in the yard, and for now, that’s all that matters.


End file.
